


Leave your dust by the door

by wajjs



Category: DCU, Green Lantern - All Media Types
Genre: Alpha Guy Gardner, Alpha Hal Jordan, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Sex, Fuck Or Die, M/M, Not Beta Read, Open Ending, Sex Pollen, Unresolved Issues, green lantern ring used for sexy times
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-07
Updated: 2021-01-07
Packaged: 2021-03-17 14:34:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,479
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28601538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wajjs/pseuds/wajjs
Summary: Hal needs help. Guy decides to take one for the team.
Relationships: Guy Gardner/Hal Jordan
Comments: 14
Kudos: 43





	Leave your dust by the door

**Author's Note:**

> This has been in my wips for so long............... it took a while to finish, but it's done!!
> 
> (Alpha on alpha, because that's sexy as hell)

**Leave your dust by the door**

It's supposed to be a simple in-and-out assignment. That's what they both infer from the information they gather with their rings, and they have hope that maybe, for once, the universe will cut them some slack. There have been enough interplanetary crises already. Maybe this time they get to do something rather simple. As a treat.

And it is true: when they get to the planet, everything seems to be developing nicely and in their favor. Plus, the weather is warm, similar to tropical places back on dear Earth, and Guy enjoys all this light and warmth on his skin. Hal half jokes about skipping Oa to go straight to the beach once they are done, which sounds great. Really great.

The people here are nice to them. It's an odd break from the routine of being on the receiving end of 'punch first, ask questions later'. They are all wearing long robes that drag on the floor as they walk, and half of their faces are covered by ornate masks. Some ask them about the efficiency of Hal's one, what is it supposed to accomplish when major respiratory parts are left out in the open. Because it's them, they don't consider what this implies and instead Hal laughs as he says something along the lines of _well, it works for me._

When they finally get to ask about the objective of their assignment, the locals get… skittish. Outside the big city there's an even bigger jungle, one they barely dare to talk about, and both humans are told that there's something—there's something in there, among that purple, orange and cyan foliage, that's terrorizing them, threatening their civilization. A remaining vestige of past wars, a weapon brought by their enemies that has run out of control.

They all look at Guy next, look long and hard at his maskless face and they give him one of their own. Guy takes it, of course, because it's nice, it was made to fit his face and because he's got manners. The doors to the city open and everyone's solemn and quiet when they step past the big thresholds.

For some reason, they still don't realize that maybe this isn't as simple as it's presenting itself to be.

Most of a day has passed and they are far from getting to the thickest parts of the jungle. It's probably because they are scanning everything in their surroundings, being as thorough as they can be and—

"This is kind of weird," Hal says, green light taking over a group of plants triple their size by his right side. "I mean, it's awfully quiet."

"Don't jinx this," Guy half-whines and then he stops because back on their planet trees _this_ big don't exist and. Wow. When he scans it, he doesn't get a lot of information. "This almost feels like a vacation."

"Almost?"

"Yeah, well, when I think of vacations I think I'm on a beach with a beautiful woman," he stops for a second, going after that good dramatic effect, "you are far from being either of those things."

Hal snorts, shaking his head while he walks a few steps ahead. Something makes him stop, though, and Guy almost runs into him, managing to stop himself just in time.

"What?"

There's no immediate reply. Hal's ring keeps illuminating the foliage directly in front of them. Its light should be strong enough to make the path clear but—

"Let's find a place to camp," Hal says next, eyes still fixed on the shadows that seem too thick and too solid. They aren't moving, though, and the ring doesn't pick up any immediate danger.

Both their instincts are telling them they should tread lightly here. And things have been going so fine till now that they decide to listen.

What they end up finding is an old construction, clearly abandoned but in good enough shape for it to be obvious that someone had lived here until not too long ago. They have their rings study all of it, if only to make sure the rooms are structurally sound and nothing will come toppling down while they are sleeping. With all the thick vines and gigantic leaves crawling up the outer walls and roof, that wouldn't be strange, after all.

It seems okay, though, and for a night it'll do. So they get inside and get comfortable, suits coming off to preserve their rings' energy. Guy takes two power bars from his jeans pocket before tossing one at Hal. They both eat in silence for less than a minute.

"This jungle is strange," and Hal picks up a chunk of a dead leaf from the floor, inspecting it. All the light they are getting comes from the firepit in the center of the room. "I don't think all of it is natural to this planet."

Guy chews the last bit of his bar, scratching his chin once he's one. "Bioweapons?"

"The ring would've picked it up."

"Yeah. Nothing even attacked us—" and Hal sends him a sharp glare, "which is cool. Maybe it's like what that crazy woman in Gotham does. You know the one."

"There are one too many crazy women in Gotham."

Guy huffs. "You are holding a fucking leaf and you need me to explain shit to you?"

Hal’s lips quirk into an almost smile. "Ivy? That still would classify as bioweapon, wouldn't it?"

"Aliens and ecoterrorism. I swear, some originality wouldn't be a bad thing. We just gotta, like. Find the center of this stuff. Torch it all up."

“Never thought I’d say this but,” moving closer to the fire, he throws the dead plant into the flames before going back to his cot laid up against the wall, “you’re right.”

“‘Course I am,” Guy lays down with his hands crossed behind his head, grinning as he stares up at the ceiling.

“Why didn’t they do that, though,” Hal hums later, more to himself than anything else, when they are both beginning to fall asleep to the sound of each other’s breathing and shuffling. 

The jungle outside is quiet as ever. No animals or other living things can be heard, there’s no breeze disturbing the foliage. It’s as if they are in a bubble of alien plants that are steadily consuming everything on their path. 

It _is_ a surprise when their sleeping is unperturbed and they wake up exactly the same, with nothing missing and no changes in their environment. A string of dusty light comes insistent through the center of the ceiling where a circular window is, bathing both of them in its glow. It hits their faces fully, making it impossible to ignore. Even if they tried to, which they did, and in the end they both ended as the sore losers who now have no other option but to start their day even if it feels like it’s extra early.

And according to Hal’s watch, _it is._

“Well,” Guy ruffles his hair in hopes it cooperates with him. When he looks at his fellow corpsman and sees the perfect state of those obnoxiously luscious locks, he huffs. Of course even his hair is stereotypically perfect. “Guess we better get going then, huh?”

“Yeah,” following the line of his jawline with his fingertips and feeling the beginning of a beard, Hal doesn’t waste a second to get his suit back on, mask and all. It’s a good thing the ring takes care of practically most of their basic needs, even if they feel like those are never quite fulfilled or like they aren't completely rested. Nothing can compare to the real thing and all that jazz.

Suited up, they step back into the never ending jungle. This time they decide to follow what clearly used to be a street that is now mostly covered in vegetation. The buildings are all similar in structure from the one they spent the night in, and not too different from the ones in the main city, if only more simple in their decorations and with less number of floors. 

As they venture further and further down the abandoned street, the air itself feels like it's changing with the heavy weight of overbearing destruction. Walls crumbling down and debris a clear mark that a war happened here; a history of pain, fear and blood that still resonates even through the life taking over. Or maybe _because of_ the life taking over, considering there’s a very real possibility these plants do not belong here, they aren’t natural to this planet or its ecosystem.

This time, Guy stops when his ring flashes over by the side of the path, the one with the looming trees, and provides a different signal than the one they’ve been picking up thus far. Hal turns to look at him and promptly follows the emerald light flickering as it tries to cut through the shadows. Yeah, alright, there’s no avoiding them any longer. In near silence, they step past the first line of trees while simultaneously bringing their defenses up. There are more trees here, thick and enormous and even when they crane their heads back to try and find where they end, all they see is foliage upon foliage. Not a speck of light can break through.

“Alright,” Hal drawls, making up a machete construct to open a path through the vines as big as their arms, “guess it really is ecoterrorism.”

Something pulls at the back of Guy’s mind as they force their way further into the wildest part of the jungle. _The mask,_ he remembers—he wasn’t even going to wear it but. He puts it on and suddenly the air feels much cleaner.

“Hey, Jordan,” swatting away a low hanging branch, he hurries his steps till they are side by side. He thinks he gets what’s really happening here. Why the locals were so scared of a bunch of humongous plants. “Cover your whole face.”

Turning to look at him, Hal frowns but there’s... something, this strange glint to his eyes, that makes cold sweat gather at the back of Guy’s neck. 

“We scanned the atmosphere and the air is clean for us to breathe normally.”

He almost shakes him to try and make him fucking listen. “But not _here._ ”

“Come on, don’t be—”

Hal never quite gets to finish the stupidest thing he could’ve said while in this setting. Because he just cut through a bundle of vines all knotted up and twisting among each other, and the second after his machete construct hit them a sickly yellow cloud emerged from the center, quickly dispersing through the air around them. And Hal coughs, because of course he got a facefull of the stuff, and before he can even finish processing his actions Guy’s taking a step back, two. His ring pings with one scan after the other, multiple alerts superimposing and okay. Okay, maybe this fucking assignment wasn’t as easy as they previously thought.

Maybe they are fucked.

Guy’s back hits a wall inside a half collapsed house and this is as far as he gets before Hal’s upon him again. The blood running down Jordan’s nose is kind of concerning, as is the near instinctual rage he’s gradually falling more and more into and they are in a full blown fight with no clear winner. 

Grappling the bastard off him takes a huge amount of strength and Guy grunts as he keeps him stuck against the opposite wall with a hand construct. The other lantern still struggles, snarling and straining against the pressure until his own ring lights up: Guy loses his concentration for the fraction of a second when he’s knocked off his feet. Which is more than enough time for Hal to break free before they are on the dirty floor, rolling and pushing. A closed fist comes close to his eye and Guy barely manages to move his head to the side as he punches the other in the gut. _Hard._ As hard as he can, once, twice, until Jordan lets up and he can get the fuck off from under him because that's a bad position to be caught in during a fight.

He's up on his feet lighting quick, as he stares warily at his partner and (sometimes arguably) friend, it finally hits him: those spores enhance aggression. These people were made to fight and kill _themselves._ Of course they want nothing to do with this stupid, fucked up jungle!

Breathing heavily through his teeth, Hal looks up at him and—he looks like he's in physical pain, like he's barely holding onto a frail line of mental clarity. With the mask on, the smell of his distress and confusion is still clear as day. Alien spores never mix well with human alpha hormones. (Or beta, or omega. Nothing alien out in nature ever works well with their secondary designations unless there's some kind of chemical alteration going on.)

"Get—away," and he doubles over, clutches at his stomach like he's either trying to rip it open or keep something from coming out.

In true Guy Gardner fashion, he says:

"Like hell I will."

Because he can handle it. He can handle the punches and being thrown against walls and floors and all that jazz. But there's no way he's leaving this idiot alone to suffer because even if Hal's guilt is nearly intolerable at worst, the man still _tries._ Hal tries all the fucking time to be good, to be there, to help out, even if that comes with physical pain and injuries and maybe even his own death, like some self-sacrificial asshole who doesn't fear dying (in a 'been there, done that' kind of way).

So he takes a careful step closer that's followed by another one and another, until they are within hitting distance again. Hal tries to move backwards, lets out a choked off sound.

The air around them changes.

Even if they are barely sheltered by a crumbling ceiling and old walls, their shared space still feels like a bubble, like they are the only two living beings around—and in a way they are. No one's around here, not in the center of this cursed jungle. When the shift happens, they are both acutely aware of it. Of Hal's scent changing, aggression still underneath everything like an overpowering note, but also…

"Rut," he bites out and moves till his back hits the wall. Guy stays frozen where he's standing and they look at each other with wide eyes.

Aiming his ring at him, Gardner runs a quick scan and curses the second he sees the results. Elevated body temperature that just keeps rising, signs of stress, accelerated heartbeat, laborious breathing. Things that can seriously debilitate (if not kill) if they remain unchecked.

There aren't a lot of options. He's gonna have to take one for the team.

Powering off his suit, he takes off his shirt, throws it on the floor before moving on to his belt. Which is when Hal finally picks up where this is going and he pushes harder against the wall, shaking as he gasps out:

"Don't."

"Not much of a choice, big shot," Guy's smirk is meant to reassure both of them at the same time. "We gotta work it out of your system."

"You—you're not—"

"Still got a hole, don't I?" 

Hal's face twistes into a grimace. "Not. not the same."

With the belt off, Guy's completely naked in just a minute. And he stands there, unclothed and exposed while he acts like Hal's heated gaze has no real effect over him. The posture is kind of a moot point, regardless of his intentions, when their scents are giving them away. The arousal, the scorching heat crawling under the skin, the sheer _need._

Keeping their eyes on each other, Guy steps closer, slowly makes his way over to him and Hal doesn't even breathe. No, his eyes are impossibly dark and there's a rumble coming from deep in his chest, one of appreciation and, and. And then his suit comes off too like it's bleeding away from him, his chest heaving, his cock a clear outline of hardness inside his pants.

When Guy finally kneels in front of him, Hal inhales sharply. There's a second of stillness, of expectation. Maybe even the last second for Guy to back out. He doesn't.

In the span of a blink, Hal pounces on him, knocks him down onto the dirty floor and rips his mask off his face before planting a heated kiss on his mouth. It's—it's truly demanding, the way he bites Guy's lips, how he rolls his hips to rub himself against the other. He'd be ashamed over it, except there's not much he can do when it comes to _control_ right now. Even less so when Guy palms his cock over his jeans, when his pants are being pulled down along with his underwear. 

God. They are really doing this.

Hal shakes as he breathes in Guy's scent, dragging his nose over the side of his neck all the way to the dip of his collarbone. He stops there to just inhale, to center himself if only a little, and it's, it's good. It's good because it's familiar, it's known, a scent he's been exposed to so many times and from someone he trusts with his own life. 

Guy's hand is on his head then, fingers closing around his hair, tugging.

"C'mon, Jordan," his words are accentuated by the roll of his hips, dragging their cocks together, "I ain't some delicate flower," when he tugs again, Hal snaps his teeth, lifting his head to alleviate some of the pressure. "Get on with it."

There's the predictable snap of his patience. Grabbing Guy by the thick of his thighs, Hal lifts his legs up and apart, settles his hips right in between. The contact is dry when he rubs himself from balls to head against the other but he does it a second time, a third, again and again until they are both fully hard and leaking at the tip with arousal.

Hal's still not gone enough to ignore how there's no way he'll fit unless they get to stretching. Through the fog of his mind, Jordan manages to gather enough concentration to create a construct and Guy laughs but for just a moment until it starts pressing in and in and _in._

"Christ," he chokes out, shivering and shifting a little under the other, "been a while since I felt that."

There's a huff of laughter that makes Guy smile again, and he tugs on Hal's hair until they are kissing, lips on lips and with too much teeth but that just makes it better, somehow. The construct keeps moving, it's steady and okay, Guy's got to give it to Hal, the man's going through an induced rut and he _still_ has the concentration to keep that up. Maybe that goes to show how sex-driven his mind always is or maybe he's done this before and that's w—

Thoughts sparkling out like sputtering fireworks, he throws his head back and he rolls his hips, tries to push against that pressure even if Hal's hands are still on his thighs, keeping his legs open, knees hovering above his chest. But _fuck, that feels fucking great,_ the way that thing is growing inside him, getting wetter, too, and it, it's—it's drilling right on his prostate, making his cock twitch with each insistent prod. There's the feeling of Hal dragging his teeth down his throat, sucking bruises onto his skin, and Guy is… he is _gone,_ he is so gone he thinks he's gonna get hooked to this. There's no way he isn't getting hooked to this.

It feels like they spend forever like that, biting each other's lips like they are trying to truly consume what the other has to give. When they pull away, Hal's eyes are glazed over, dark, so dark and tantalizing, and Guy opens his mouth to say, say—a moan, a moan so loud it rings in his ears afterwards comes out instead because the construct keeps getting bigger, keeps stretching him till he feels full, obscenely full.

And Hal curses, looking down between Guy's legs, looking at the way he's clenching down on emerald, how the skin of his rim is already a little red from the stretch. That's when what's left of his control snaps at last, when he can't deny it any longer even with all his experience and—

The construct vanishes. Guy's legs fall open and frame Hal's body in defined muscles; Guy himself only has time to take a deep breath in anticipation. He knows what's coming, what's going to happen, and Hal, fuck, Hal isn't small _at all._ Neither of them are. Biting down on his tongue, the first push of that cock inside him jostles all the air out of his body, leaving him clawing at the floor, unsure if he should be pushing away or _closer._

Hal isn't looking at him. No, his dark eyes are focused with too much intensity between their legs, not missing a single movement that pushes in deeper and deeper. Guy grunts, lifting his hips and hoping that'll make the stretch easier, hoping Hal will just stop dragging this out—the sooner they get him back to survivable levels of everything, the better. But the idiot seems to have different ideas when he grabs onto Guy's sides with such strength, he can _feel_ the bruises forming. 

It's… it's too slow. Guy isn't a man who waits around too much, least of all with a cock up his ass. He lashes out, all alpha instincts telling him he can regain control here, and he closes a hand around Jordan's throat, squeezes twice as a warning. The feeling of his fingertips clamping down on the glands must have triggered something, though. That's the most he manages to think when he stops breathing altogether and his entire body transforms into a line of tension the instant Hal slams his hips against him, pushing all of his dick at once inside. Burying himself to the hilt.

A flash of teeth with a dangerous hint of fangs and Guy's seeing sparks and dots the more he struggles to breathe when with each thrust air is punched out of him. He squeezes Hal's hips with his knees, tries to maneuver him yet manages nothing. Like a fucking machine running on eternal batteries, Hal keeps ramming his entire length into his ass over and over and—

"Holy fu—," his back arches as his vision whites out for a moment. Without thinking he closes a hand around the base of his cock, can tell there's the beginnings of a knot forming and that just makes him feel like he's burning. 

Arousal is coiling tight in his gut. When he finally manages to focus his eyes, Hal's looming over him, sweat beading over his forehead and eyes a smouldering warning. Those hands close around Guy's thighs again, force him down on Hal's cock just as his knot is starting to grow, too. It's. It's too much, the stretch, the pulling and tugging at his rim each time the knot catches on it and he clenches down on instinct but that just. That just makes it more intense.

It's close to an outer body experience when Jordan pushes all of it inside him with a force that has them sliding on the floor. Squeezing bruises into his thighs, Guy almost shouts when he gets no reprieve from the way his prostate's getting milked like it's nobody's business—Hal forces his knees closer to the floor, wrenching his legs open to give room to the mad, fast movements of those hips.

Knot swelling up with each second, it's like his ass is being stretched to its very limits. He's squeezing down on it _hard,_ each time it grows sending contractions through him until Guy can't really move anymore, until he's perfectly pinned in place. He does his best to mimic the sensations on his own cock, closing his hand so tight around the base where the thickening is happening that he gasps out a shuddering breath and… 

The whole world goes white in maddening pleasure and with it goes Guy's mind. There's barely any kind of awareness of things like the way Hal stopped moving, how that idiot is caging him in against the dirty floor, how there's something wet and hot inside him, coming out in spurts. Relaxing his muscles is still out of the question. Each time Jordan shudders, hips twitching, it wrecks through him, making him squeeze a bit more, on repeat until they have both calmed down.

And even then, it's hard to find his own voice.

"Jesus," he shakes a little, wipes the cum off his hand on his own stomach, next to the rest of the mess, "that was a ride, huh?"

There's barely a hint of a smile on Hal's lips but it's gone too soon. Which, okay, fair, the man's working an alien sex pollen off his system and that must not leave a lot of room for much thought outside of getting his dick wet. He doesn't even fully pull out once his knot deflates enough for him to do so, and Guy's still catching his breath and his bearings when Hal's good to go. Again.

"Sorry," Jordan manages to croak out while his hips give little thrusts like he can barely keep a hold of himself. It should not be as much of a turn on as it is.

(Guy's definitely hooked to this now, isn't he?)

"Hey, 's okay," and he pats Hal's shoulder for good measure, shakes his ass a little, "have at it."

Which Hal does.

Probably hours have passed and all Guy can think of is _holy shit_ and _too much, too much, too much—_

Is death by cock possible? He's slowly getting convinced that they are about to find out. His own dick isn't really hard anymore and yet everything still feels so good, so incredibly good, the painpleasurepain of Hal fucking him till there are buises on his ass and then some.

God he's gonna walk so funny after this. Good thing they fly around a lot.

But then it's like all the alpha hormones have finally hindered all of Hal's thought processes because _those are fangs_ and he's looking extremely determined to leave a mark.

Guy snarls, the least he can do to regain some kind of control here, and puts as much command into it as he can when his thighs are spread open as far as they go, when his dick is still leaking with precome and getting hard even though it no longer seemed possible, all because there's a prime example of alpha pounding his ass to kingdom come. So he has to go the extra mile, get physical, well, more physical—he pushes Hal's face away from his shoulder, wrenches it back, pushes him by the chin with the palm of his hand, forcing him away and—

"No biting, motherfucker," he growls, a moan chasing the tail end of the sound because Hal's hips know no rest and no rhythm, only speed and strength. Guy's a whole lot sore already. But he can take it. "You ain't claiming me shit!"

And it makes Hal's eyes flash and, well. Guess they aren't stopping any time soon, huh?

It's almost a whole day when they are done and they are both dangerously, uncomfortably tired, sore and dehydrated. Guy's twitching on the floor, dirt caked with sweat on his back, and Hal's looking like he ran three marathons back to back before going for a fourth one, just for funsies. But at least his body temperature has gone back to normal, same as his heartbeat, and that's important.

What's _not_ important is Guy trying to remember that stupid saying about _hindsight_ that made him realize _just now_ he could've used a construct to get this done. Instead of, you know, getting his ass wrecked. Ah, well. It's not like he didn't enjoy it. Or like Hal didn't enjoy it, either.

They share one long look as they stabilize their breathing, almost in sync. Hal shivers with exhaustion when he lays down next to him, pats Guy's chest even if he's covered in drying sweat and cum and it's more than just gross.

"We smell of each other," Hal says like it means too much, voice all rough, tight. 

Do they really want what happened here to mean so much?

"Nothing—nothing a shower can't make better," Guy swallows once and hopes Hal doesn't comment on the way his own heart's speeding up now. Hopes they can shove this into a neat mental box and not talk about it till they are, well, till they are cities apart.

A flash of disappointment shows on the other's face, one that's gone as soon as it shows. Guy still sees it. He still sees it and he forgets to breathe for a second or two.

"I'll go find—," Hal clears his throat, sitting back up and looking all around them, "well, I'm guessing there aren't any fresh water sources nearby."

"Eh," waving his hand, he flops around a little until he manages to lift his torso off the ground. Fuck, his ass fucking _hurts,_ "we got to finish this shit. I can clean myself up later."

It's getting dark outside, and they aren't really sheltered. With how sore and used up he is, Guy actually wants Hal to stay right here even if it means he has to spend the next day with bodily fluids all over him _and_ inside him. Who knows what might happen next if they split up paths now.

"Okay," Jordan rests back down next to him, uses his ring to bring the discarded clothes closer to them before pulling up a green shield to keep them covered. Guy raises his eyebrows. Hal looks away, hands twitching. "I'm not taking any chances again."

Alright, he gets it.

He still uses it as an opportunity to press his arm against Hal's. They say touch can be quite healing, after all.

In the end, they spend almost a full week on the planet, most of it cutting their way through the jungle—fully covered, this time. They do find an open body of water to clean up with after a complete examination. But even once they do that, Guy thinks he can still smell Hal all over him. For a second he almost gets too distracted thinking of the face John will make once their scents give them away.

Just a second, though, and after it they find the thing keeping this invasive jungle alive in a place where it shouldn't have taken root. It's a sphere pulsing with all the energy running through its core, similar to the way a heart beats. They dismantle it with just a few tries, of course, pick up the leftover parts to be examined later. This kind of technology is usually simple, yet still letal. If they keep it on their records, they'll have information to use as guidelines next time they stumble onto something similar.

There's a huge fanfare when they return to the city. In that short amount of time vines, flowers and leaves had already taken over the outer walls, creeping into the streets.

"Torch it all up," Guy grins while saying his departing words.

He acts like he doesn't notice that Hal keeps staring at him.

John has a strange look on his face when they arrive shortly afterwards, scraps of alien tech in tow.

"You two smell weird."

Hal snorts, drops his load on John's arms before going straight to his assigned room. Weird how he's gone from being unable to tear his eyes away to acting like the other's presence isn't even fully registered.

"Nothing a shower can't make better," he says, waving at them while he gets further away. Guy swallows. Crap.

John notices this, too. (Of course he does.)

"Did something… happen?"

"Nope," he lies like it's nothing, yeah, nothing at all, puts his hands on his hips and grins to drive the point home. "Guess the age's finally catching up to him, huh. About fucking time. He needed a reality check."

Laughing, John squeezes his shoulder and tilts his head towards the direction of their personal rooms, and it's clear he's not buying it. Oh, he's not buying it at all.

"You know you stink too, right?"

Guy's grin gets bigger. What's that saying? Ah, right, he's gotta face the music and dance. "What? Can't handle pure manly smell?"

But yeah.

Maybe they shouldn't be shoving what happened aside after all.


End file.
